Pale Imitation
by drunkdragon
Summary: It is unfair. It is so, so, so unfair. Cordelia finds herself trapped in a game of pretend and there's no way out.


A/N: I usually don't put these up here, but I believe that in this case, a brief warning is necessary. This particular piece contains themes that are intended for mature audiences, so you may want to be a bit wary about reading this.

I feel like I must also give credit to what spawned this fic.

_"Robin turns into Grima and Cordelia becomes the wife of the fell dragon. It could work?"_  
_- Viral020, A Moving On Relationship, Chapter 6 end notes_

**Challenge Accepted**

* * *

It is the current duty of the Pegasus Knights to guard the road to Mount Prism. Grima knows that the sacred grounds are important for blessing the Falchion and cannot let the line of the Exalt reach it. He tries to capture and destroy the temple, but they fight hard. The Risen have no chance of invading it as long as Cordelia leads the forces. But she knows that it is only a matter of time before they can hold no longer. She has seen the size of the fell dragon, and should it rise to fight, it will lay waste to them.

And one day, the time comes.

She battles Risen like it is a daily chore, cutting them into ash. The clouds are dark and heavy, but it does not rain. It masks the sun from her eyes. Suddenly, fierce gales begin to blow. It is not the same as the wind in her hair when she rides. Looking towards the sky, she sees that the black clouds have started to congregate, threading itself into a vicious tornado.

She gives the order to pull back. Those around her attempt to flee, but the winds are strong. Their steeds struggle to keep their bearings. Even she, the captain of the forces, is thrown from her pegasus, plummeting to the ground below.

But she feels a breeze attempting to cushion her fall. It wells beneath her, creating a bowl of air. She lands ungracefully, the wind knocked out of her and a sudden searing pain from her left hand. She hisses and looks over to see a bloody shard of a sword jutting out where her ring finger should be. As the winds slow down to form a thick barrier around her, a voice sends the harshest of chills down her spine.

"Cordy, there you are! I've been worried sick about you!"

Her first thought is that it is her husband. But that is impossible. He disappeared and became what they feared. He smells of battle and blood, the dying zephyr smothering her in its scent. Scrambling to her feet, she tries to put some distance between the two of them, briefly aware that the Risen have paused in their assault.

"I haven't heard from you since your trip to the tailors to get bridesmaids' dresses done. Is everything alright?"

She looks to him and feels a chill streak down her spine. The only thing that separates this monster from Robin is the pink glow in its eyes. The cloak of purple, blue, and gold, the two swords on his side, his tousled, messy black hair, they are all his.

One of her soldiers manages to break through the storm. She quickly steers her lance at where its heart would be. With precision, he ducks beneath the point and the incoming wing, quickly drawing both of his blades. A brief flash of steel dances through the air and it is followed by red. The pair crash to the ground, the pegasus' wing cut off and the rider cleaved through the torso. There is a brief scream before Risen surround her to finish the master's task.

A brief channel of magic pulls the blood into the hilts of the swords and he puts them back away. She raises her lance to try and fend him off, but with her injured hand it is as heavy as her heart on the day he killed their leader. He begins to walk towards her, ignoring the weapon she struggles to point at him.

"What's wrong, Cordy? Were you afraid of being alone?"

His voice is concerned, and she wants to retch. This should not be! Her husband, he disappeared when Grima took over so long ago. And yet its ability to emulate him brought back memories she thought she had managed to forget, had forced herself to forget.

She tries to raise her lance again, but Robin is already too close. He pushes the point away, moving the shaft out of her weak grasp. One of his hands rests upon hers and he gently squeezes it. Her heart pounds as those pink eyes bore into her and she is immobilized.

"It's alright, Cordy. There's no need to be afraid or alone, now."

His arms move softly to embrace her. He is right within striking distance. Falchion or not, a spear to his heart would wound him enough to force him to at least pull back, but her hands feel weak. She can hear the soldiers around her, struggling to break past the dark and stormy barrier, but their words are noise compared to the exact feel of her husband's embrace.

"I'm right here for you."

His lips land softly upon hers and the weapon falls from her grasp. The winds pick up around them and she feels herself being whisked away.

* * *

When the winds stop spinning, she is still in Grima's soft embrace. She begins to panic as she feels the arid air comes in contact with her. Looking around, she sees sandy ruins strewn about her and a tall tower.

She recognizes that it is the Dragon's Table and she suddenly feels faint. She does not know if it is from the blood loss or arriving at the site where her husband vanished.

"Are you okay, Cordy?"

She shakes herself free and tries to run. But the sand impedes her and she was never good at running. Having been fighting all day, she collapses on the hot sand and Robin quickly catches up to her. She turns herself over to see him crouching down and gently snaking an arm around her shoulders.

"You're hurt!" he suddenly realizes, pulling her hand to him. "How did this happen? Who did this to you?"

It is angry. It doesn't realize that it was him, and he still thinks the two of them aren't married yet. But for all the wrath and power he holds, he contains it within himself. Slipping off the gauntlet, they both see the wound up close for the first time. Blood mats the opening and the area around it. Bringing his hand back to her, he lifts it up and examines it closely. She watches as it becomes enveloped in a soft dark purple.

She tries to squirm free, but all she notices is the reassuring squeeze on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Cordy."

The glow fades and her finger returns, its pristine skin separating it from the rest of her hand. But she knows it's not the same finger. It has no scars. There is no sign that a ring was ever there.

"See? Fresh from the womb. Now we just have to clean it up."

Very slowly it brings the hand to his lips. His tongue stretches out and he begins to lap away at the drying blood. His eyes close as he does, and suddenly Cordelia feels a familiar heat burning away inside of her. When his eyes are open, it is Grima. But when the eyes are closed, it is Robin. And for her to see him sensually licking away at her hand, holding her in his strong arms, the old feeling of arousal rears its head.

"All done, Cordy."

Her cheeks are flushed and she isn't thinking straight. The heat. It must be the heat, she tells herself as Grima kisses her again, its tongue slipping into her mouth and spreading the taste of her blood. But she finds that she cannot deny how his touch is erotic after the dry spell she forced herself under. She briefly stares back and can't help but see the bare bits of humanity and her husband behind it, and she cannot comprehend her hunger for him.

"I can't wait till we're finally married, Cordy. I hope you're looking forward to the wedding night as much as I am."

She faints. She tells herself that it must be the heat.

Grima's presence leaves Ylisse and Regna Ferox, its eyes settling westward on Chon'sin and Valm.

* * *

She awakens in a room. Her body shoots up, examining her surroundings. It looks similar to her quarters and it soothes her heart. It is very much like the home she shared with Robin in Ylisse. A main room, a private bath, and a smaller room attached to the side. She takes a gulp of air and it is as if she has awakened from a painful nightmare.

Looking down, she sees that she has been changed out of her armor and into a soft nightgown, her gear resting against the wall by the bed.

Grima must have changed her out of it and had seen her naked.

With a panicked glance, she looks out the window and all around her is sand. The weight of her situation crashes down on her. She is far from her Ylisstol, far from her homeland, and far from her daughters and the people she serves. Her disappearance must have put the soldiers in uproar. And gods, if they find her finger with the ring on it-

She must escape. It is all her mind tells her. She must return to her land, to her daughters. It is a daunting task. She is surrounded by sand, the sun will scorch her without the right supplies, and her red hair shall stand out to his eyes. And Risen. She will not be able to reach Ylisse easily. But it must be done.

Cordelia waits for night to fall, tying her bedsheets together to pass the time. When it comes, she dons her armor and ties the end of the makeshift rope to the doorknob leading to the smaller room and dangles it out of the window.

There is not much light out, but she sees that it is far too short. If she climbed to the bottom of it, she could fall the rest of the way and pray that the sand below can cushion the fall. But if she sustains injury in her legs, she would be unable to move quickly enough to escape. She discards the plan for now and pulls the sheets back up, undoing the knots and placing them back on the bed.

She explores her other option. Taking out the wing pin from her hair, she slides out a thin pick and puts it into the lock of the door. With some deft turns, the door is open and she puts it away before walking into the halls of the tower. There is little light, emanating only from small, floating orange flames. She does her best to navigate through the twists and turns, but it is not long before she gets lost.

Wandering some more, she arrives at the end of a hall with the choice of heading left or right down the path. Suddenly, there is a low, unintelligible yell from behind. Quickly turning around, she feels the sharp point of a javelin drive through her shoulder and she screams in pain, the blow pinning her to the wall. Blood flows heavily from the wound. Her other hand flies to it, trying to dislodge the weapon but it does not budge. She hears uneven footsteps rushing towards her, and she understands that she had been followed, trailed in the darkness. She has difficulty seeing their bodies in the dark light, but she can see the eyes of the Risen.

Suddenly, a quick rush of wind blows through the hallway before centering itself in front of her. The flames do not flicker, their magic holding them in absolute stillness as Grima appears in their low light, his glowing eyes piercing through the darkness. With a single wave of his arm, he dismisses the Risen and they bow before turning to dust and collecting in his shadow.

He walks over to her and survival instincts kick in. She tries even harder to pull the javelin out, grunting in pain with each exertion. It refuses to be moved and Grima cups her chin, forcing her to stare into his pink eyes. Fear grips her. His gaze is nothing like the one he held in their previous encounter. That one tried to comfort. This one sought to terrorize. But it is also contemplative, as if Grima purposely approaches her differently now than before to see the difference.

She finds herself preferring the other.

He pulls away from her, one hand going to hold her unwounded shoulder while the other grasps the lodged weapon. Without warning he yanks it free and she screams. It clatters to the floor. That hand then falls to her hip and he pulls himself into her, hiking the skirt up and inquisitively strokes the exposed skin.

She tries to break free, but Grima begins to lick the inside of the wound and she buckles under the new agony. The strange, hurtful sensation, one that she wishes she never knew was possible, unnerves her and she pushes against him with her other hand. But the pain lances through her body each time she tries, accentuated by his deft tongue.

Cordelia tries to scream but she has no energy, all of it sapped away by the pain. Only hoarse cries come out. She begs it amongst rolling tears to stop, but it does not relent. Only when her body becomes weak does he finally cease. She feels the purple soothing light across her wound as it closes up and he resumes licking away at the exposed skin and she shivers before losing consciousness.

* * *

She wakes up in the room once more, lying underneath the covers of the bed. Slowly, she rises and finds herself in the same nightgown she was wearing earlier.

So Grima had changed her out of her gear again. She does not turn red at the thought. It is like it was a fact now and not a violation. Grima has seen her naked and will continue to do so if it wishes and she is powerless to stop it. Looking over to the corner of her room, her gear is in the same spot, but the part where she was wounded is bloody and ruined.

The door opens and she snaps towards it, protectively pulling the sheets around her.

"Ah, you've awakened! I was worried when I found you out in the corridor," Grima speaks, relieved. She finds herself looking away from his glowing eyes. "Sorry about the lack of clothes. The nightgown was the only thing I could find in the ruins of Southtown that wasn't in tatters." His demeanor is different from that night, and she finds herself thankful for it. Terrified still, but thankful.

A glint of light bounces into her vision and she focuses in on the small dagger and clay bowl in his hand. She has seen that type of earthenware before. Tharja and Henry used it for dark magic before they were-

She instinctively backs away.

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed. She moves off of it and retreats the corner of the wall.

"Aw, don't be scared now. Compared to the other night, this will be nothing."

Oh, that he would stop talking!

"Here, give me your hand."

Her heart pounds as it walks towards her. Cordelia glances to the side, contemplating making a run for the other corner, or the door even, but to where would she go? And how would she escape him?

Before she knows it, Grima has already taken a firm grip on her hand. Taking the knife, he quickly puts a shallow cut on her palm. She winces as he holds the cut over the bowl and gathers the quickly pooling blood.

"See? Not so bad, right?" he assures her, leaning in to kiss her fingers. She stiffens at his motions, suddenly aware how close he is.

When the small bowl is filled to his liking, he quickly summons that purple magic again and her wound is healed, not even a scar remaining. Placing the bowl aside, he licks away at her hand, drinking up her fresh blood. It unnerves her how at one time it churned the flame in her belly while another time his licking made her blood run cold. She fights the urge to let him continue and tries to retract her hand from his lips, but he has finished by the time she convinces herself to move.

"Now that we have what we need, it's time to continue the rest of the spell."

Taking the bowl again and guiding her back to the bed by her hand, he invites her to sit. She moves like she is issued a command, watching as her blood in the bowl pools into a sphere. None is wasted. Even the dregs are pulled in. Grima's eyes briefly close before taking the blade, a sucking dark aura now glowing around it, and cutting into his wrist of his hand that holds her. Instead of blood, there is black ichor dripping so viscous that though it forms stretching droplets it does not fall. They do not stain the white sheet she holds in front of her chest.

"This will hurt for both of us, but don't worry. I'll be bearing the brunt of it, and I'll try to make it quick."

The sphere of blood lets out a small spike and it is siphoned into his wrist. Suddenly, her veins begin to burn and all sense of decency leaves her. She feels herself collapse, and Robin moves his arm to catch and bring her close.

"Don't worry, Cordy." His voice is strained and he draws a sharp breath. "I know you said you wanted to grow old with me. I'm just making it so that you can."

She barely registers the words as sweat begins to mat her skin. All she can do is hold him for dear life and yell and hiss in pain with her eyes shut.

"S-Stay with me, Cordy. Just… Just a little more."

The rest of the blood is drawn away into him and her body finally relaxes. She is a sweaty mess and he is barely any better. She feels him drop her hand to bring her into a full embrace. Her eyes are in a daze, trying to right her senses.

This feeling, this tiredness, it is as if she had just… the two of them, they-

"See? All done, Cordy. Not that bad, right?"

She struggles to keep her eyelids from closing. If she can't see him can't see his glowing eyes, then she can't tell it's not Robin and- and-

She feels her body being shifted by him and soon she finds herself back in the bed, lying on top of him and under the sheets. He gives a sigh before speaking. "You know, I didn't expect you to try and pick the lock. If you wanted to see the tower, you should have just asked." She almost doesn't register the kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry for not accommodating your needs. I didn't realize you would be so bored here."

Grima places another kiss on her right shoulder, this time with a lingering hunger, where the nightgown's strap and a scar from last night would have been. She suddenly realizes his hardened arousal through his cloth on her thighs. She wants to be horrified and does her best to writhe free from his grasp, but her eyes have long resigned themselves to exhaustion and it is now Robin that holds her tight.

"Don't worry about it, Cordy." A good-natured chuckle rolls from his tongue and the risings of his chest begin to lull her to sleep. "Rest. We can have all the fun we want on our wedding night."

One of his hands settles on the small of her back as the other slips down her side and just up a bit of the nightgown, resting on the exposed skin almost possessively. "I can't just let you off the hook for leaving me like this, though." He kisses her head, and softly squeezes her hip before letting it trail to her front and between her legs, stroking the sides of her opening.

She strains and moans in the grasp of his torture, almost forgetting that she is tired. He never slips his fingers in and it is painstakingly slow, driving her mad. She gives into her lust for the first in a long time, grabbing at the shirt beneath his cloak and suddenly wishing it wasn't there. His touch, how it lingers, how it drags and flicks and teases every bit of her as his other hand pets her head and hair, it is all the same. Her halfhearted attempts to pull away are thwarted and she must suffer through the pleasure. His tongue smothers hers when he finally pushes her over the edge and she tenses and loses control of her body, her sense of self shattered under the overwhelming climax and her fingers in a vice grip on his shoulders.

When he ceases, her body goes limp as sleep begins to overtake her, her eyes closed and arms splayed around him.

"Sleep well Cordy, because when it's time, I don't intend to let you sleep at all."

His hand travels back to her hip and gives it a wet squeeze. The last thing she hears is that soft laugh as he laps away at the liquid on his fingers, realizing that Robin had done the exact same thing prior to their marriage.

* * *

When she awakens the next day, Grima brings her wild fruits and begins to slice them, stating that they grow in Chon'sin in this time of year. As she bites into a piece, she realizes that it has been more than two days since she was captured, but she has grown neither hungry nor thirsty.

He has taken away her mortality with his spell.

As soon as he lets go of the handle, she quickly grasps the knife he brought with him and drives it into her palm. She hisses in pain, but there is no blood.

"Nice, isn't it?" he smiles as he chews a piece. "I've shared a part of my immortality with you."

She feels the color draining from her face.

"As long as I live, you will too. You won't age, you won't get gray hairs, you can't be killed, and I'll always know where you are in case something bad happens. We'll get to spend the rest of our time together, forever, and I will protect you."

He moves toward her back as he talks, pulling her into a warm embrace from behind.

"Once my work is done, we'll visit the corners of the earth, just you and me."

She shudders, remembering what his work is, and wondering why his glowing eyes don't bother her as much anymore.

Looking to the corner, she realizes that Grima has confiscated the rest of her gear. But she doesn't see herself needing it any time soon.

That night, Grima comes to her room and shares the bed with her, deciding that even though she has his gift, it is not safe to leave her alone, that it is wiser to stay with her each night. But the moment his arms wrap around her and his lips meet hers, his fingers once again reaching for that spot between her legs, she knows he has more than just her safety in mind. Once again he denies himself as he pushes her into uncomfortable ecstasy.

He does not do it every night, but with each orgasm she finds it more and more difficult to be afraid of him, instead feeling and fearing an anxiousness for more than just his fingertips brushing over the ache between her legs.

* * *

It is now early evening and Cordelia has not seen Grima since he dropped off many books for her, stating that he would be gone for several days and leaving her trapped in the room of a prison. Though she has yet to go through even the first of what he has given her, she already feels lethargic. Back in Ylisse, even though she would most likely be doomed to die in battle, at least each day brought a new task to her. In here, he is her only form of communication. There is no one else for her to talk with, and she rues the boredom that comes when he leaves her.

Her mind drifts to Severa and the argument the two had prior to her capture. She must have felt so guilty hearing of the 'death' of her mother. Aside from that one rider, she saw no others make it through the barrier, so no one could have seen the truth. The only thing they had left to give to Severa and Morgan was her finger with the ring on it, if they even found it.

There is a click at the door behind her, the noise of it unlocking. She finds herself rising to a seated position on the bed, no longer bothering to block his view with additional covers, her nightgown the only thing saving her from nakedness.

"Sorry, Cordy, I have some bad news. I couldn't find a priest, so I can't give you a traditional wedding ceremony."

A wedding ceremony is the last of her fears. What traditionally comes after is what she is anxious of.

Anxious of, but not so much afraid.

"And I can't seem to find the ring I had, too." He walks in and shuts the door behind him, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "Everything I wanted for you is just falling apart at the seams." Clambering onto the bed and kneeling with his knees parted, he makes her straddle his lap. He takes pleasure in seeing that the nightgown hikes up past her waist and his hands circle around her, resting at the curve of her hips. Their loins are separated only by his pants and he playfully grinds himself against her.

She closes her eyes amidst the teasing, the images of her real wedding flashing before her. The flowers, the dresses, the smiles, Robin.

"But I am higher than any human being, and far greater than a mere mortal tradition. We need no priestly authority or pieces of metal to make you happy in matrimony, not when I'm here."

He leans in and nips away at her neck and she shivers. One of his hands starts to drag through her hair and she finds herself leaning back because of it, exposing her lips, allowing Robin to take them. He does so passionately, his other hand moving up under the nightgown to rest on the small of her back.

But he is impatient in his actions. His hands slip down once more to grasp her curves. He pushes hard with his kisses while pulling her body into his. She can feel his desire throbbing against hers and she finds the burning anxiousness in the pit of her stomach growing even larger and she arches against him, leaving a wet mark on his pants.

His fingers grab the hem of the nightgown and she feels her skin tingling as it is pulled over her head. She is naked before him. Grasping her hand, he slowly rubs it down the front of his chest and inside the hem of his trousers.

"This is what you do to me, Cordy," he closes her hand around him and he moves it up and down slowly. "You make me feel like I'm just a beast," he hisses through her strokes, "just an animal that wants to be deep inside you. I can't bear to not touch you."

Her eyes remain closed. It is exactly what her husband said so long ago on their first night together and she trembles, waiting for Robin to enter her. She feels his grip leaving hers, but she only stops stroking when he removes his pants and is naked before her, the rest of his clothes and weapons laying where her nightgown is. In a smooth motion, he pulls himself from her grasp and lowers her onto the bed. Placing himself between her legs, he drags his length over her slick opening, causing her to lightly moan.

His thumbs find her wet folds, softly spreading them aside. She arches a little, waiting for him to-

"There is no barrier. Why?"

His voice is different this time. Her eyes open and they find the pink glow of his staring back and terror starts to slip into her mind again.

"Why are you not a virgin?" he quickly backs off the bed from her. "You told me you had never been with anyone before! We agreed to wait, and yet…"

Robin was never mad like this. This was Grima, not Robin, not her husband's memories.

"Who?"

It is a demand, not a question. "Was it Chrom? Did you sleep with him?" He is angry and yelling.

Hearing the old lord's name invokes painful memories of the Shepherds, of memories long past and she tries not to cower or cry.

"Could you not give up the man you pined for and seduced him?"

Cordelia is reminded that it is the fell dragon that stands before her and she trembles, naked and with nothing to shield herself with. This being could end her life if it so desired. Its breath is quick and fists clenched. Would he attack her in rage?

She finds herself briefly entertaining the thought. If he struck her down here, then death would be her release from this mental torment. But its countenance changes before a decision can be made.

"No. No, it-… it…" There is a short pause as his anger halts and suddenly it has no direction to turn to besides himself. "It can't be Chrom."

His head tilts down. "I killed him… It can't be Chrom because I killed him."

He stands still for a moment longer, eyes remaining on the ground in contemplation. Then in a hurried motion, he exits the room, shutting the door behind him. Her eyes follow him as he walks away from her, feeling both relieved and bothered at the state he left her in.

Hours later, Grima returns as naked as he left. He says nothing, merely holding her tight around the waist underneath the warm sheets. His eyes do not meet hers, but she stares into his and it is still contemplative.

There is a need in his embrace, as if he must know that she is still there for him in spite of his confused thoughts and recollections. She lets him have this respite, making no move to free herself from his grasp. There is nowhere else for her to go as the monster's wife, after all.

* * *

When morning comes, a rush of debilitating heat courses through her body. Grima has recovered and indulges in her without restraint, not even waiting for her to awaken. Her first complete thought is the name of her husband, recalling that this is not the first time he roused her sleeping form in this fashion. If she said Robin's name out loud in the thrusting and arching of her waking orgasm, Grima makes no notice of it as he continues his ministrations.

His voice from below is rumbling, hungry, lustful. "You taste so good, Cordy."

She barely registers his voice, too focused on his fingers flitting across her hips and thighs before he dives back in. His tongue deep between her legs, she loses whatever coherence she recovered and recognizes only the pleasure he gives her. Her hands tighten and close while her body writhes on the sheets beneath her as he lavishes upon the spots that drive her mad, the moans on her lips the only sounds she can make. Before long stars dance in her dazed vision as her voice reaches a fevered pitch once again. Her body moves on its own mindless accord to push herself against his tongue as she shatters from the inside, writhing at the mercy of her second climax.

But in spite of the numbing pleasure, her body aches for more, it aches for him inside. Finally satisfied, he slinks up to her and places his hardened tip at her panting lips. She tries to focus the efforts of her tongue and hands through the fading daze as he firmly guides her down, up, down while stroking her red locks, taking deep, slow breaths. She does not fight Robin, not without him challenging her first. She never fought him for dominance if he started their lovemaking, just like he never fought her in the same situation, and she sees no reason to change the practice.

Soon his chest begins to rise and fall in quick gasps, his hips begin to buck, his gentle guiding becomes rough. He gives a primal moan and it's her turn to taste him. It's exactly as she recalls it, hot on her tongue and smooth down her throat before settling in her gut. When it's done and he pulls her off, he wipes the seed that spilled out with a finger and she licks it clean before grooming his member with her tongue, lapping up what she missed, just the way he liked it. That small laugh comes out from him as he moves in for a deep and passionate kiss and her taste mingles with his.

Everything is just like she remembered it. His habits, his ministrations, his preferred method of waking her, his taste, the sweet nothings he whispers into her ears when he drags himself up to her head as he pulls and pushes into her, his groans and shudders, they are word for word and hand in hand from many a night so long ago.

"Cordy, ah… Cordy. You- You feel so good." He whispers against her lips before taking them again. "Ah… Cordy… a-again, inside… C-Cordy..." she feels him shiver around and in her, that warm feeling washing over her insides. Her body arches uncontrollably against him in momentary bliss once more, strangled moans and whimpers caught in her throat while her legs tighten around his waist, her breasts pushing against him. His lips trail down to the base of her neck and he bites, just enough to bruise, until he finishes inside her for the third time. He knows everything about her and she finds herself powerless to resist him, her arms hopelessly entangled around his body and hair, her own will crumbling in his heated embrace. Her body cries for satiation and she can see no reason right now to deny herself from Robin.

Her last bastion is overrun.

If she keeps her eyes closed, then everything is the same, just like when their love was young. It has been a long time since she let herself be touched like this. His caresses and thrusts are achingly familiar, tearing her between wanting more and begging for it to end.

"I'm just a beast, Cordy." He throatily whispers from behind her. At some point, he has turned her over. She doesn't remember when, but she is suddenly aware of this when he pushes her hips aside and lines his tip against her other entrance. "I want everything. I see you and all I know is that I want everything." His lips trail to the back of her neck, and with an exhale he firmly pushes in. She winces a little, the sensation not unfamiliar, but never without slight discomfort at the start. She adapts quickly, however, and when he starts to thrust into her she soon finds herself pushing back, lost in his smooth motions and unable to stop the low moans that escapes her lips. They are partly muffled by the sheets but his ears catch them. He gives that soft laugh through his pleasured groans and goes deeper.

Slowly, all inhibitions are lost and she barely realizes that he plunges into her hard and deep again and again, the shameless tunes of her voice driving him to maddened, quickening thrusts. He brings his shuddering body over her, to be in as much contact with her as possible, and a hand places itself on her head possessively, protectively. She hardly registers the burning sensation in her as the knot inside wildly unravels itself and she comes with it. Her body pushes against him in a needy, uncontrollable fashion amidst her euphoria and the stars come back to dance as he pulses more of his seed into her.

The lights stop only when she realizes he has turned her over to face him again. Without warning he pushes deeply into the entrance he just ravaged. His fingers easily slip into her pink folds and as they push against all the right places, she can only squirm and mewl beneath him.

When he is finally sated in the mess their loins have made, he pulls her into his encircled arms and turns over so she rests upon him, planting a soft kiss upon her sweaty forehead. She finds herself naturally dragging herself across his body for as much contact as possible. If she keeps her eyes closed, she can pretend it is Robin, the real Robin that she rests upon.

This Robin knows of his lust for her and will often seek to sate it. Just like when they had just wed, she wearily tells herself. But he cannot fully recall his love, which her husband held for her on each and every breath he used to take. He can only imitate the old memories and cannot spontaneously show his love through other means.

But it will have to do.

When she awakens and finds the beast still sleeping beneath her, her aching and sore body sticking to his by the evidence of their affair, she closes her eyes, willing herself to rest atop of her husband just a little bit longer.

* * *

Grima has been more peaceful as of late. He still destroys, but it is at a slower pace, finding it to be more enjoyable to be at her side.

Early one morning, things change. He is fully clothed while he rouses her from sleep with a gentle shaking of her shoulders. He merely smiles at her and kisses her lips before a sudden black vortex builds around them. It whisks them away and when the winds die down she finds herself in lush green fields overlooking pink-leaved cherry trees.

She clings tightly to him, surprised at the unknown surroundings and afraid for her nakedness. He quickly begins to take care of the latter. A small shard from his shadow rises right above her breast and rests against the skin. It is pleasantly cool to the touch and it quickly envelops her body, eventually forming a thin white sundress. The nature of the cloth eludes her as Grima leads her through the landscape. Looking around, she sees no one, only animals and the surrounding vegetation provide them company.

But she soon realizes that the bark of the trees are notched with lacerations and scorch marks. The grass, while covering the ground, is young. The earth that they walk upon is uneven.

They are in what used to be a battlefield, a place where men and women fought and died against the tides of Risen that Grima sent against them.

Eventually, they reach a glade where the ground is smoother and he stops moving. Grima turns to face her, a playful smile on his lips. Still holding her hand, he falls down onto his back and pulls her into him, his arms circling around her body

"Happy birthday, Cordy." the phrase jars her. "You always told me you wanted to see Chon'sin after the war, and I can see why. This land is beautiful." One hand pulls her into his chest while the other lazily drifts to her hip and cups it. He makes no further action though and is content to lie there with her.

Cordelia begins to assess what has really transgressed since her capture. In essence, she is effectively the spouse of the fell dragon. He indulges in her and seeks to please her with gifts and kisses. Escape is impossible. With his magic running through her and keeping her alive, he can easily find her. No weapon besides the blessed Falchion can stop him. She has no weapon to begin with. His raw strength and speed can easily overpower her.

She can do nothing, she harshly tells herself. She was given a task by the daughter of her lord and she failed. Unable to protect the path, she was even captured and ravished by the enemy. Death would have been a better alternative, but Grima saw to it that it was not an option.

Another smaller, reasonable voice speaks up, stating it was better to be happy, even if it was one choked out from her situation. She immediately attempts to shake the thought away. This was the monster that took away her lord, that overcame her husband. But it sticks to her. She has resigned herself to the murderer of the two closest men to her.

How could this have happened? Remorse, nausea, guilt, all hit her at once. She draws her hands across herself and she shivers, but not because she is cold.

She just let him do anything he wanted to her. It wasn't Robin. It was like him, but it was not him. And it took just one morning, one simple gesture and suddenly she was unable to deny him and-

No, that is incorrect.

Everything boiled over at that one moment, but it had been building up over the course of the nights he molested her, the nights he held and kissed her and attempted to show his affection for her, his lackluster copy of love.

Why could she not stop him?

Her head leans forward and bites her lip, realizing that the question was not the right one.

Why did she not stop him? She could have struggled more, could have bit him back, could have tried to flee again once he gave her his gift. There was always a solution. She just too afraid to take it, and she knows why she is afraid. He looks like Robin, feels like Robin, acts like Robin, wants to be Robin, and tries to love like Robin. This is the closest she will ever have to her husband, who was so violently taken away. She fears losing him again.

The other alternative, the other path is the choice of Grima and death, one that Cordelia saw a part of on the night she tried to escape and is terrified of.

Only the sensation of his trailing fingertips draw her away from her thoughts. She finds that Grima has risen to a sitting position, her legs straddled around him. He kisses her as he slips his hand up her dress and around her bare back. He pulls her in and there is a sudden warmth between her legs. Looking down, she sees that he has pulled down his trousers partway and he slides his arousal up and down over her opening. She breaths deep at the movement.

Her eyes close instinctively.

Robin rubs himself against her, eliciting breathy moans from both of them amongst heavy kisses. But suddenly his lips leave hers and he leans back, his hands sliding down to the sides of her hips. She looks down to see Grima's glowing eyes staring back.

There is a smirk on his lips. "Ride me, Cordy." He playfully grinds himself against her. "Ride me like your pegasus."

She remembers when Robin first said those words to her, how she stiffened at the challenge and how she passionately moved against his hips. Though he never said it often, it was an open invitation for her to take the lead if she wanted to. Here, however, it felt like a command. He wants her to initiate the sex that blurs the line of who it is that lies before her.

She wonders what will happen if she denies his request. But she knows who will come out if she refuses him and she curses her cowardice as she takes him. She lets the beast beneath her become Robin once more.

* * *

Cordelia realizes that after some time Grima comes less for sex, more content in merely holding her close to him. She finds that she does not refuse him.

But one night, the way he indulges in her flesh is different. He continues to move within her, offering neither any rest as he spills into her womb again and again, refusing to change, and withholding himself from her other bodily vices. He voraciously attacks her lips and shoulders and neck and breasts with hungering kisses and suckles. His thrusts are firm and deep in directed passion. When dawn breaks, he finally pulls out but not away from her, his wet, searing member landing warmly upon her thigh and the heat of his seed swirling within her.

She remembers before her body falls to rest that the last time they approached their love with such focus and fervor was when they sought to conceive Severa and Morgan.

Grima remains with her after that, almost never leaving her. He no longer satiates his lust because he knows she is pregnant. He does not turn his wrath to the world, content in knowing that his child will grow up on a land of peace, even if it is one that he strangled from it. He is content to sit at her side and watch her belly slowly grow, the wonder in his eyes nearly washed out by the glow behind it.

Four months later, after a rare moment where he left her side, he returns with wood and tools. He begins to work on the frame of the crib for the room he cleared out a month ago.

"It's for Severa. Or Marc, if it's a boy." She remembers how her husband had made it by his own hand and how Severa and Morgan started their infancy in it. "I've been doing a lot of reading on parenting. I think I've been reading more of those than I have in tactics recently. But I'm still worried about what it's going to be like. I can read about it all I want, but the real thing is always going to be a surprise."

Eventually, the hammering stops and he admires his work. It is not without its small flaws, but after testing it with some jostles he is satisfied.

"I'm glad you picked their names. They were both much better than mine." He slides next to her on her bed. Her belly has begun to distend, and she feels his hand coursing over it as he gently kisses her cheek.

* * *

Five more months pass. Cordelia is sure that the seasons have changed, but the Plegian desert only knows heat and a day of flooding. But she feels the child in her kicking. It is nearly time, and one day the contractions start. Grima holds her hand and shoulder, kissing her sweaty forehead and matted hair. With some blood and much pain, she finally pushes out the child, Grima's Severa but not her and Robin's Severa, the orphaned one back in Ylisstol.

He cradles it lovingly, just like Robin did when their daughter was born.

"Look, Cordy," he whispers softly, "it's Severa." He places the child into her tired arms and she looks at it. She tries not to think of her own daughters. "It looks like she has my hair color."

The child opens its eyes. She can see the traces of red in it, but there is a slight pink glow to them, just barely pervading from behind the misty iris.

"The blood is strong in her, too. She bears my mark."

She cannot express her horror when she sees the sigil on the back of her right shoulder because she is too tired. In her mind she cannot bear the thought of its presence. Such a child should neither exist nor suffer in this wasted world.

A week later, when she regained her strength to walk about and he is away, she picks up the child. It knows she is her mother and coos softly, expecting to be nursed.

She feels tears beginning to well in her eyes and turns her head up and closes them. Holding it close, she feels the lump in her throat grow as her hand travels to its small head. The babe cries, unused to the feeling. She gives a soft sob as her hand tightens and twists, hard.

The snap of its neck echoes in her prison. A harsh lump builds in her throat. It may have been a fell creation, but it was still a child she brought forth into the world.

Grima knows immediately, teleporting to her room within the minute.

"Cordy! Severa, is she okay? I can't feel her presence! I can't feel the power within her! Severa, she-"

He sees her cradling the body of the child, its neck hanging at a limp angle and knows that his child's death was not natural.

In a sudden movement, he raises his hand and strikes her. She crashes to the ground, the sudden hit catching her off guard and she drops the dead babe.

"You said you wanted a child!" it roars. "You even complained that you wished to have one sooner!"

It is true, but she said it to Robin, not him.

"Why, Cordelia? Why would you do this to me?"

He picks her up only to hit her again. Her lip is split and she is afraid that this would be her last day, that she would die alone in the tower at the feet of her husband's shadow. But she accepts. The day she was whisked away was the day she died to the world. It was time for her to catch up.

"I just want to make you happy! I don't understand! I loved you, gave you everything you wished for, everything you ever wanted me to do, and this… this is how I am repaid?"

He says he loves her, but Cordelia knows that what he has given her is only a pale imitation.

He grabs her shoulder and holds her up against the wall. Drawing one of the two swords that is always at his side, he points the blade at her. It drips darkness. With no will to fight back, Cordelia closes her eyes, waiting for the bite of steel.

With a maddened howl, she hears the curved blade dive into the wall beside her. A violent gale howls through the room, and when she dares to open her eyes, the blade is still beside her ear. A roar reverberates from outside, and she looks to see Grima in all its fell majesty striking away at the Plegian landscape. The dragon lashes again and again, its rage an unquenchable fire. Its heart is confused as to why he spared her in the first place. But it does not strike her homeland, the peaceful land where she and Robin planned to raise Severa and Morgan in. Yet the roars are mighty. Ylisse knows that its time is nigh.

* * *

Three month pass before she sees him again. Cordelia has recovered from the beating, but her heart is still in pain. He hugs her in greeting, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. He holds her and she doesn't shy away anymore. There is nowhere to shy away to except beneath her eyelids.

"Cordy… where's Severa?"

Her heart shatters once again when she hears the words.

"Cordy, where is our daughter?"

It sounds so much like Robin, but it holds the sound of panic behind his voice, something unfamiliar to her. Robin worried, but he never panicked. He was always the sensible one.

"What happened to Severa?"

And then he remembers. She sees him remember.

The aborted child. Its twisted neck. The glow from its eyes gone. The sudden lurch he no doubt felt when the child's life depleted.

Grima slowly pushes her aside, his eyes locked on the side door as he moves to it. A tentative palm rests on the handle before turning it and entering.

The cradle is empty.

He scans the vacant room. His head begins to tilt down, remembering that the child's death was at Cordelia's hands. He closes the door like he will never open it again and leaves her hellish prison in silence. His face is twisted in a pain that he is unfamiliar with.

She does not see him again for some time. He is too engrossed in destroying Ylisse.

But one day he takes a reprieve from his wrath and visits her again. It is like the evening when Grima claimed her as his bride. He falls into the bed and grasps her around the waist, unwilling to let go and avoiding her gaze.

"I have dreams of Severa."

They are memories, Robin's memories, but he cannot tell. "I see her growing up. I see her birthdays. I see her calling me her father."

"You have robbed me of those dreams." His hold tightens around her and he stiffens, drawing a deep breath. "You have killed what was most precious to us, and yet you were on the verge of tears when I saw you. Why?"

She knows, but it is a question she does not wish to answer. She could not let a monster like that grow and become strong in this world, but she dare not speak the truth to Grima.

"Why?" he asks again. "She was of our flesh and blood." His voice struggles to remain calm. "You have left me with these dreams, dreams and hopes that can never come to fruition because Severa... Severa is dead."

His glowing eyes shut and she feels hot tears stinging her flesh. "We were so happy during those nine months and now... now she is gone."

As he mourns, she tries not to comfort him. For a haunting moment, she wonders that if she had spared the child, if she had let it live, Grima would have turned his wrath away from the world and there would have been peace, content in companionship with his family. But she strikes the thought away. It is too late for that now.

The next morning, Robin indulges in her flesh for the first in a long time. But he is careful to spill his seed onto her breasts, between her lips, the bare of her back, anywhere but inside her womb. He does not want to risk reliving his pain, not now, at least.

* * *

Groan.

"Cordy! Oh, finally! Are you alright?"

There is a gentle stirring of her shoulders. Her body aches in pain and she tries to push herself up but fails. Her form collides with the dirt once more. Her vision is still bleary, but it is slowly clearing.

"The portal was poor to you. It would seem like that wretched serpent wants to hinder you as well."

They had traveled to the past, following the princess and those most loyal to her. However, the portal was made by Naga and she saw it fit to deter the two of them as much as possible. Grima shielded her and bore the brunt of the pain, but it did not leave her unscathed. Patches of her skin feels cold and she shivers against the early chill of mid morning.

"Oh gods, the armor I made for you, even that is fading. Has my magic really backfired upon me so much?"

She hears a flap of cloth and he quickly scoops her up and places her over it. Her outfit darkens before shifting to the center of her breasts, forming a black crystal shard and she is naked. He guides her arms down sleeves and closes the front over her, buttoning them up tightly. When she summons the strength to look down, she sees that it is the coat that he normally wears that is over her frame. It is not the first time that she had worn her husband's cloak, but this was the first time she wore it out of necessity.

"Sorry, but I need to maintain what little magic I have right now and recuperate. That is all I have for you to wear out here."

He picks her up again in his arms as she is still too weak to stand. Her eyes lock onto his and she sees that the glow is weaker than before, but still present.

"Don't worry, Cordy. We'll be fine. I will protect you." He cradles her tightly against him and kisses her forehead. "We just have to make it to Plegia."

Naga saw it fit to put them on the far side of the continent. Robin walks for days, resting only during the night. Snippets of time pass before her as she slips in and out of consciousness. When she realizes they are about to sleep, he undoes the buttons of the cloak and uses it as a blanket over their entwined bodies, their forms meshing together not for love but to maintain energy, protectively enveloping her. Though he speaks that he is slowly regaining his magic, he does not want to share it with her yet, not until they have returned to his homeland. They cannot die from mere mortal blades, but he knows that she can be forced away from him.

As a result, she remains weak. Her muscles can barely move on their own, only able to instinctively shift closer to Robin's warm body. They avoid other people as much as possible. He refuses to risk having her be taken away because of his weakness. In his eyes, she is his and his alone. He is jealous for her and will have none lay a hand upon her.

Grima could have left her there, she mused. With her transgression against him, she had expected at least that much. But he chose not to. She understands that it is by his grace that she is spared and will live to see another day. He has chosen to protect her when she least deserved it.

When they finally arrive in Plegia, much time has already passed. Emmeryn is dead, Gangrel has been slain, and the second Ylisse-Plegian war has ended. He has become stronger and can spare her some strength, but he still carries her over the threshold of the Dragon's table, saying that it was long overdue for the two of them, and approaches the altar. It burns with purple fire and she begins to feel empowered by it, knowing that Robin must be feeling the same way as well.

A cold, revering voice greets them. Validar. Hearing his voice stirs anger and much fear within her. She visibly shifts in her husband's arms to hide herself from him. It has been so long since she has interacted with another person, and he is the last one she wants to see. She only knows Robin, her husband.

Thankfully, he asks no questions about her. Who is he to pry into Robin's affairs, after all? He orders him to prepare a room for them. In the meantime, they continue to bask in the purple light.

He sits at the steps of the platform, seating her on his lap. "We've made it, Cordy." There is a hint of a smile at his words. He nuzzles himself against her cheek. She relishes the heat it brings and she answers him back with a soft kiss.

That night, as she straddles him on their soft bed, Robin slowly undoes the buttons of his cloak that she wears, being sure to trail his fingers on each inch of skin that it slowly reveals. She feels the heat building up inside of her and she grinds hungrily against him. The glow in his eyes have long stopped bothering her.

* * *

Cordelia has acclimated to the new room she is given. She still shies away from the Grimleal attendants, but has grown used to their presence and is allowed to wander the tower as she sees fit. The servants provide clothes to wear, but she wonders at the efficacy of them. Robin prefers to clothe her himself with his own magic, favoring simple but elegant dresses, or, his favorite, that nightgown. It was one of the few things he brought with them when they entered the portal.

She likes the nightgown, too, not for what it looks like, but because of what comes after when it has been shed.

But she tires of being barren. Though they love often, Robin still has difficulty allowing himself to finish in her pink folds. But one day he chooses to acknowledge her, lying down on the bed.

"You wish for child, do you not?" She feels shame at the question in the light of her past actions, but she closes her eyes and nods at him. "Come and take it from me."

It is a challenge, she realizes. She ruts him with abandon, clamping around him with the walls of her womb as she sees stars again and again, but he seems to be in pain during the process. His face is wracked in concentration, as if trying to will himself to let it happen.

But finally he gives off a feeble whimper of her name and she feels the hot seed spilling forth inside her. She continues to move, coaxing his burning member inside of her to continue spurting within, to milk what she can from his orgasm. Even when he has long ceased, she refuses to take it out from within her and relishes the warmth inside her.

"I know you want a child. I knew it before I even asked you earlier," he says to her when she stops moving, the burning, dripping liquid making her shudder. "I want you to have one. I want to see our child grow and bring even greater joy to your face. But though I am strong, I am still weak compared to how I was before. The risk is great." His glowing eyes stare painfully into hers. "I cannot fulfill your right to motherhood, not at this moment." His breath shakes. "I am afraid of what will happen with the second, but..."

Robin takes her whole body into an intimate embrace and she tucks her head into his chest. "I know you will spare the child this time. I know you will."

She will not bring him to anguish like that ever again, she tells herself. But for now, she will be content with his admission of love, of his promise to her.

* * *

The next set of years pass her by. Robin keeps an eye on Chrom, monitoring him closely during the peacetime and even closer during the war with Valm. He keeps her away from the battles, despite wishing to fight, but she knows she would rather not cross him. He dislikes her being near that man, and she understands why. He does not wish to lose her to his enemy, one that she has thankfully lost all feelings for.

She lets Robin plan. It is his specialty, after all, and she merely waits for him to return. Sometimes, he announces his presence with either a whirlwind or a knock on their unlocked door. Other times she finds herself swathed by his craving arms. He does not yet give her child, but she waits patiently, waits for him to be ready.

Then things begin to change. The Ylissean lord has acquired all of the gemstones except for Sable and in his attempt to obtain it he is foiled, forced to escape from Castle Plegia with his tail between his legs. Validar is elated, but Robin is apprehensive. He knows that though the Fire Emblem is real, some of the gems are fake, and something else, but he continues with the plan. Grimleal zealots are posted inside the tower and she can hear the distant sound of war preparations. A small voice in the back of her mind reawakens and tells her, screams at her, that life she is living is wrong, but she ignores it. There is no point in it. As the pending battle draws closer and closer, she finds herself pulling away from the window, away from where she will be able to see see who is fighting. She knows who will be there, and dares not look.

Chrom, the lord of this time, arrives to confront Validar again and he brings with him his Shepherds.

The battle rages on for much of the day. She sits placidly at the foot of her bed in a simple dress, waiting for Robin to return. But the tower begins to shake. Dark lightning falls from the clouds and she feels herself tremble. The magic in the air makes the hairs on her neck stand and that small voice screams for her to run, but she easily pushes it away.

He has regained his true form once more. He has not yet reached his full power, but he has regained much of it.

She stays amidst the destruction raining down. He will not harm her, she is sure of that fact. She hears the heavy flapping of wings and her husband leaves the area, intent on utilizing his powers that he has wanted to experience again for the past several years. She does not see him for three days.

When he returns, it is not on wings but with that familiar black wind. Finally moving to the window, she looks out and surveys the land. It is littered with discarded weapons and armor, much like Chon'sin was, but the bodies are gone. All around him are Grimleal, who are prostrating themselves before him. He uses no doors, he merely appears at the entrance of the dark tower. She sees the Grimleal bowing down to him, but he pays them no mind. He glances upward and his glowing eyes see her.

Another vortex surrounds him and he whisks himself to her room. When the wind dies down, he stands before her and she can feel the power radiating from him and she trembles. It is different than what she felt before, as if he had been keeping it hidden from her. But now that he wants it to be known, it nearly paralyzes her, bringing her to her knees. It is difficult to look upon him. He walks to her, lifting her chin up with a finger to see his smirk and heated gaze as he trails his thumb upon her lips. She knows that look and what he is about to initiate and her heart races. She has been expecting it, wanting it.

"You need not kneel before me, Cordy," Robin gives that soft laugh again and she can feel his eyes traveling down the front of her dress. "I will admit, however," he rumbles with a low voice, the hand that was on her chin trailing down her neck, slipping down the opening and cupping her breast, "that I like the position. It's natural, anyway. Few can truly stand in my presence, after all."

She feels the clothes she wears melting back into shadow as his gaze returns to her eyes, it's deep stare churning the flames in her stomach and she quivers.

But in all his might, in all his power, there is something different. He has slept with her countless nights only to awaken her for more lovemaking with his tongue, made her see dancing lights again and again, but there is a sense of desperation this time. It is most apparent in how he thrusts and spills inside her again and again, especially when it is her womb. It is more than just carnal, it is unrestrained.

She realizes that there is something else. There is a fear inside of him, and she knows why. Though he is quick to spread his wings and establish his dominance over the world, there is one difference. Lord Chrom yet lives, and with it he wields the sacred Falchion against Robin. Her Robin. It has yet to be blessed, but he knows the power it still holds.

She tries to quell the urge to fight, to raise her spear in the name of her husband. But he senses her feelings and dissuades her.

"If you fight against Chrom and fall, my power cannot save you. You shall slumber like I did, and I cannot allow that. Though I have blessed you with life, I cannot give you the power to resist that blade, even if it still lacks its true power." He says into her ears after she is exhausted by his love.

It is not fair. He is out there risking his life for her, and yet he will not allow her to fight beside him despite how skilled she is with the lance.

"You will stay," he slowly says. His hand slowly drifts to her stomach and she understands why he is reluctant to let her go with him.

"You have conceived tonight. I will fight for you, for our child, for our future. This land will be ours, and I will protect it."

* * *

Three months pass slowly for Cordelia, and her stomach begins to distend. Robin has gone to Origin Peak to regain the remainder of this strength. By doing so, he is drawing their enemy away from the tower, where she resides in. As the days pass, she finds herself looking towards the window, expecting his return.

But there is a sudden lurch within her and she feels weak. Looking out the window, she sees a dark speck in the sky. It is Robin, but she knows something is wrong. He descends too quickly. With a loud crash, the ground shakes and sand is thrown up.

She rushes out of the room, intent on meeting him, but she stumbles on her feet. She tries to support herself against the wall, but even that is difficult. Her muscles ache, they scream for her to stop. Her breathing is labored and heavy, she is matted with sweat, but she must go, for what she fears the most has come to pass.

Robin is dying. And with it so shall she.

When Cordelia finally makes it out, she looks at the massive head of the dragon. There is a small gust of dark wind, and her husband appears before her. His cloak is bloody, and she sees the magic in him dissolving from his body. They try to move towards the other, but they are weak and they collapse. Cordelia crawls up to his body and rests upon him and the burning sand.

As he begins to flicker in and out of existence, the dragon's flesh begins to grind away to dust, leaving only its massive bones.

"C-Cordy," he chokes out. She painfully pushes herself to her knees and attempts to cradle him, like a master attempting to ease the pain of her dying loyal pet. They say nothing, drawing what little comfort they can from the other.

"Cordy... I'm scared," he eventually struggles to whisper. She slowly strokes his tousled, messy black hair, staring into his dimming eyes, attempting to calm him, to calm herself. The body of the dragon continues to vanish into the wind and he continues to fade.

"Cordy... lo... l..."

His body finally blinks into existence one final time before disappearing. She looks up at the clear desert sky, looking for direction now that her husband is dead, forever. Memories of her time with him slowly come back to her and a lump forms in her throat.

But she cannot stare for long. Exhaustion catches up to Cordelia and her eyes close to rest, her body slumping over onto its side in the presence of the sandy ruins of Grima's grave, the pale imitation of her husband.

* * *

"Cordy! Cordy!"

The words rouse her from her slumber. There is a harried shaking of her shoulders.

"Cordy, open your eyes, please! It's me, Robin!"

Her eyes open and turns towards the familiar voice. It is that of her husband, and when she turns to him, she sees his clear, glistening eyes. There is no glow, just dark irises that are beginning to wet with tears.

Who is he? Their tousled, messy black hair is the same, yet-

"Don't you recognize me?" he tearfully sobs. "Grima's gone! It's just me now, your-" he painfully swallows, "your husband! The one who gave you the ring, the one who built the crib, it is me, Robin! Please!"

His arms wrap around her and she feels repulsed at first, but the way he holds her is different than how he has held her for the past several years. It is desperate, needy, but ultimately tight. There is a desire in his hold, but it is one that she has not experienced in a long time. A desire for not just her body, but something more.

"I'm so sorry for everything it put you through! I… I…" he sobs against her shoulder, "It did terrible, horrid things, but you, it... I... they were..." He cannot finish what he wants to say. It is unspeakable to him. "He was in my mind, I could feel him trying to search for when we were most happy and- and- copying it to-" His voice fails him again.

"Please... forgive me." He chokes out. "I couldn't stop him, not when it mattered for the world, and not when you were..." his shame gets the better of him and he can say no more, lost in his tears.

Tears that she realizes are not just for his own, but for her as well. Grima only cried once, when she killed his Severa, and it was for himself.

And then Cordelia remembers. Very slowly, as if living the memories over again from their first meeting, she remembers. With shaking arms, she begins to embrace him. Her hold is loose at first, but as her breathing picks up, knowing what is coming, she tightens around him, and he fiercely squeezes her back. Her face becomes wracked with pain, a pain that has been inside, locked away for years and for the first in a long time, she cries.

They cry together, for themselves and for the other. They cry for a long time.

She doesn't speak. She's not ready to speak yet. But she knows that Robin, her Robin, the real Robin, he will be there for her when she finally does. And she will be there for him when he is ready to face his demons.

A soft breath of warm wind passes by and they are whisked away, their mortal shells left behind in the desert sands of Plegia.

* * *

A/N: 23 pages of whydoesthishurttowritesomuch. One of these days, I will write a happy RobinxCordy story.

I'll be honest, I really wanted to have GrimaRobin fuck the hell out of Cordy. We kind of see it being implied in the first scene, and I had actually written out a small portion where after he gets his strength back he was going to have some fun with her using his powers. But then that would have been excessive and drawn away from the importance of the scene, so I left it only in that initial portion.

In the end, this is a story about GrimaRobin trying to come to terms with his host's persistent memories, trying to earn her affection. From the very start I tried to keep as much of the story in present tense because then it becomes more personal and stronger. Cordelia also only has an internal dialogue with herself. She never speaks to GrimaRobin and it's kind of made apparent near the very end, where it says she is not ready to speak yet.

At one point, I also wondered if I had somehow made a kind of crazy yandere Grima thing, but I think in the end it's better to state it as a misconception of what he thinks love is. He goes through multiple phases and conceptions, but in each one he doesn't quite get it right. He begins to grasp some facets of it towards the middle, but it doesn't quite realize that love is about selflessness. He is still quite selfish in many ways.

We also see some Stockholm syndrome going on in Cordy. It starts with the confusion of who Grima really is and the pain of seeing her husband in him, and it really begins to happen when she is carried through Ylisse. I wouldn't call it full out Stockholm, but it's certainly in there. I would say it lays the framework for her falling into delusion.

Speaking of Cordy's character, that is essentially the lynchpin of the story. Does it seem out of character? It certainly could be, but at the same time as long as it's justified in writing (and not too farfetched), characteristics that seem like that can become very real and believable, which is what this fic aims to be. Hopefully I've done a good job in making everything seem plausible.

As for the abortion scene, it is painful to read, yes. But at the same time, pregnancy is something that would have been brought up sooner or later. She had Severa and Morgan back in Ylisse, and Robin remembers that. So that means GrimaRobin would try to do the same thing as well. Here, Cordy brings back some of her resolve to stop Grima, but it is painful even for her to do. Followed by Robin's beating, she loses much of her will to fight back and then the delusions really begin.

And though this is somewhat spawned from the idea quoted up front as well as from my other story True Grit, I decided to keep the similarities to a minimum. Robin is a more physical-based MU that carries those twin swords, but otherwise it follows canon as much as possible.

I would really like to thank Viral020, Guybrush007, and Dane Namor. This piece could not have been the same without their input, especially Dane's.

On an unrelated note, I am surprised to see that no one has found or told me the answer to my little April Fool's scheme. And speaking of April Fool's, so far only five people have voted on the poll I have in my profile and mRobinxCordy is winning. Now I was doing some thinking, since this fic kind of falls into that pairing, but this fic's creation started way before the event came to mind, much less the poll. As a result, I will keep the option up and available for further voting. Please vote or suggest your own options if you want.

I am also concerned that mRobinxLucina is also tied for second. I have yet to write anything or hint at anything towards that relationship. Still, we shall see.

I do not own Fire Emblem, and as usual I appreciate all comments and criticisms.

_Sleep with Grima, save the world? Oh, the things that could have been._


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